Everyone knows the story of Icarus—

The young man banished to the island of Crete—

Whose father fashioned faux wings of feathers and wax so that he and his son

Could escape the labyrinth.

Everyone knows the story—

Of how Icarus fell from the heavens into the sea just off of the island—

That his father so aptly named Icaria.

How he fell engulfed in light and terror

And drowned in his hubris beneath the waves.

But what they won’t tell you is what he said—

They never mention his final farewell to the Gods 

That echoed off of the sky as feathers floated around him

And hot wax ran down his face and neck—

Over his shoulders and down his chest and thighs as if its path was already mapped out.

They won’t mention the mix of euphoria and fear—

That danced in his voice,

Or how his laugh was laced with delirium as he drank in his fate.

“My father is a fool!”

He screamed.

“Why should I be afraid of the sea—

When Poseidon’s waves are so calm and the weather is so clear?

Why shouldn’t I have flown as close as I could to the sun—

When Helios is in love with me? 

Why can’t I fly with him across the sky in peace, while his fiending sun burns kisses 

Into my flesh?”

He screamed into the air around him right up until—

He hit the water.

And there he laid for a few breathless moments—

Staring up at the sun he had so longed to be near,

As he let the cool water brush and soothe his torrid skin.

And then he began to sink like his body was made of lead—

And he smiled as his body fell beneath the waves and floated

To the seafloor.

And again he stared at the sun—

Casting light on the glittering waves and sending

Scattered shadows that waltzed

On his skin and the sand.

And for a moment Icarus was at peace,

His skin was at ease and his heart beat stilled,

And he yielded to the darkness at last.

h.k.